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It was Christmas time 1977. Our family had nothing, except for a 1 pound brick of butter, a box of powdered milk and a block of Government cheese that we got from standing in line for 2 hours in the rain and cold, outside a warehouse in Tacoma, Washington. My Father had a penny jar from which they scrounged out enough money to buy some elbow macaroni from the Piggly Wiggly grocery store. We were going to have Mac ‘n’ Cheese for Christmas, for this we were happy and grateful. Continue reading